Silk
by AsterEris
Summary: Anastasia Uliari has finally escaped the clutches of the Volturri, and is happy to have a clean start and a new life with her best friend. But the arrival of a certain boy in Trent, New Hampshire might just turn Ana's fairytale into a nightmare.
1. Allow me to Introduce Myself

This is gonna be a short (and most likely unfinished) fic that's basically Twilight, except reverse and a different scenario.

Short Summary: Anastasia Uliari is a 233-year-old ex-member of the Volturi, on a path of self-discovery in a remote town in northern New Hampshire. She's finally escaped what she views as her imprisonment within Volterra, and has founded a new life for herself and her best friend, Cicilia. Little does she know, her life is about to be turned upside down by a very special young man…dun dun dun…. Yeah so anyway here's the first chappie.

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The house still reeked of fresh paint. No matter where I hid inside the cavernous structure, the smell wafted around me like a stench out of hell. It itched my nose and made my head throb, sometimes so badly that I had to stifle a scream.

"Maybe you're allergic," Cicilia had suggested helpfully. She didn't smell anything besides cleanliness and a little bit of that acidic, new-car-smell.

"We should have done one room at a time, like I said!" I complained while clutching my forehead over the morning newspaper. Cici was seated across from me, tweaking her hair while staring vainly into a small handheld mirror. Quick as a flash, I snatched it from her grasp and chucked it at the wall, a small portion of my mind feeling a thrill of approval as I heard the glass shatter against the new coat of white paint.

"You have to buy me a new one," Cici ordered with a sigh. It wasn't the first time I'd broken one of her mirrors. Definitely not the last. Cici tended to be one of the most vain creatures on the planet, and whenever I lost my temper, there was a 70% chance that a mirror would be conveniently within my reach. And the sound they made when they broke was _so_ immensely satisfying…

"You really should learn to control your temper," Cici muttered as she folded her half of the newspaper. There was nothing interesting in it – we mostly read for ceremony, so that we could boast the human-ness of going out every morning to pick it up. Then again, as vampires, there was probably nothing human about it anyway. I'd timed Cici once – took her 4 and a half seconds to sprint to the end of the driveway and back. None of our neighbors had ever noticed. Ah well – c'est la vie.

"What to do today?" my friend murmured as she absentmindedly stuffed the newspaper into a bucket marked _Recycling._

"I don't know – I was thinking a nice day out –" I paused and darted to the windowsill, lifting the curtains just a few inches to peek outside. I was met with a bright flash of glaring sunlight. The curtain swung despondently in my wake. "Just kidding," I said with a sigh. "Time for another Monopoly tournament."

Cicilia gave a moan of disapproval and shook her head sadly; her golden angel's curls bouncing against her slender shoulders. "That's eight days! I've missed four tests, a paper and two chemistry labs. If I wasn't failing before, I am now."

My gaze softened as I took in Cici's frustrated frown. I stepped forward and put my marble arm around her shoulder. "Hey, perk up. You've got the rest of eternity to bring it back up to an A!" I joked, trying to coax her out of her mood. Cici smiled weakly.

She was only 12 years old – that is, 29, but 17 of those years were spent as a weak human. She'd never been through high school before, and like 99.99999% of all other teenagers in the world, she was having a difficult time keeping up, especially since we missed school on every sunny day. I'd been through it all before. In fact, I'd been through it so many times that I couldn't count them. On any of my appendages. I couldn't even recall a single human memory, I was so old. Still, I was young, compared to some. Cici – she was barely a toddler in vampire years.  
While she traipsed upstairs, no doubt to retrieve a new mirror from her stash under the bathroom sink, I stretched out on the couch in our living room and switched on the TV. I wasn't really watching it though, instead I was recalling the day I had first met Cicilia – the human Cicilia.

She had been a timid 16-year-old schoolgirl, attending the same top-notch private school in Volterra as I did. I was a year older – or rather, I was masquerading as a senior while she was merely a lowly sophomore, albeit old for her grade and stunningly gorgeous, even by vampire standards.

We weren't best friends back then, but once she started hanging out with the 'wrong crowd', I started to get just the tiniest bit interested in her. She seemed like a great kid, and I always tried to be aware of the stars at my school. My reason? So that they wouldn't end up in the clutches of the Volturri, like I had. Gianni was a new recruit of Demetri's – he had the same kind of skill, though not quite as powerful. When I saw him hanging around Cici all day, I started to get suspicious. And then the Volturri started to get suspicious of me.

I'd succeeded twice in my attempts to save kids from Aro and his corrupt brothers. Once with a very young girl, maybe 14 or 15, 30 or 40 years ago, who showed potential as an emotional manipulator. They were closing in when I decided to be the benevolent science teacher (my guise back then) and send her on a full scholarship summer program to Harvard. She never came back – I made sure of that. I haven't heard from her since then, so I don't know if she's still safe, but I felt that I had done something right.

The next one was more of an accident, but it worked out okay. Not much of a story there, except that his name was Lorenzo and he was in love with me. Obviously, I didn't return his affections.

Then along came Cicilia. Beautiful and exceptionally charismatic. Humans toddled after her like ducklings after their mother, boys and girls alike (mostly boys, however). Gianni wanted her for himself, I'm sure of that, but Aro would have let him, and gladly. So I decided to try my hand it once again. It was the last time.

It was a simple plan, but I didn't expect anyone but Gianni to be keeping an eye on her. I made friends, cozied up, played the part of the big sister. She fell for it easier than I thought. By the summer after senior year, we were good enough friends for me to invite her to my family's house in the Caribbean for the summer. Warm water, great food, quality living – who wouldn't want it? But for some reason she was hesitant. Only then did I realize, with my stupid thick brain, that I had been playing right into Gianni's trap. He was going to use me to trap her – and there was nothing I could do.

That's where it got bloody – or, it wasn't really that bloody – there was some blood, Cicilia's, and then there was some – really nasty piles of burning stuff. Gianni, mostly, bits of Rinaldo. Not the most pleasant day of my life. None-the-less, we boarded that plane to the Caribbean. And no less than four days later, I had created my first vampire. I can't really say how I did it, except that I was scared out of my mind and I needed a friend. Since then, I've never tasted human blood in my life. It was part of our pact, Cicilia and me – she'd never touch it, and I'd never talk about it. It was hard for me at first, but after 12 years, I got used to it.

Aro sent me a letter a few years after that, wondering how it had turned out. I sent him a picture of Cicilia and I, a tiny square from one of those photo booths at the mall. And I told him I was never coming back. I haven't heard from him since, and who knows if that's good or bad with that lot.

A sudden loud noise from the TV brought me back to reality. The US Women's soccer team had just scored a goal. They were happy.

My own transition from the land of the living to the world of the immortals wasn't quite as exciting. A pretty mundane, everyday occurrence. Or at least, it was back in 1775, where I lived in northern Italy. It was a big deal - lots of pitchforks and torches. I was on the pitchfork side, just not one of the lucky ones. Our town had flushed out a coven of vampires hiding in a mountain cave. We massed together and went out to attack. How foolish humans are sometimes. The vampires decimated half our number before some thickhead finally realized it wasn't a good idea. I was left bloody and dying in the deserted streets of the town. If I hadn't crawled into some guy's basement and huddled in a corner for three days I'd have been a goner too. That was it though – no epic plane flights, no angry Vampire mafia. I was just Anastasia Uliari, left for dead. Funny how things work out.

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	2. Ryan

Hope you liked the first chapter. This is where the story starts to get a little more interesting. I made up the high school and their town. The guy's name is kind of random and a little cliché, but I've always wanted to name a character this, and he seemed perfect.

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Three days later, a storm rolled in. A big one too – I cleaned the kitchen in celebration. Aside from all of our absences, Cici and I were perfect students. We were always on time, we paid attention in class, and we turned everything in one time. Of course, these things aren't difficult when there's no such thing as sleep. I once read three books in one day: or rather, one day and one night.

Cici was dancing when she came down from her room on Wednesday morning. She had another mirror in her hand, and lucky for it, I was in a good mood today. I drummed my fingers on the table as Cici came to a bouncing halt in the kitchen doorway.

"Finally!" she said cheerfully, a divine smile flashing across her marble-pale face. "It's been _ages_ since we've left the house!"

I noticed with concern that Cici's eyes had darkened to a morose shade of brown overnight. I didn't want to think of what my own eyes looked like – I hadn't fed for over four weeks.

"Yippee – school," I muttered. Cici wasn't fooled – her smile merely widened.

"Guess what?" she said in a bubbly voice as she delicately took a seat across from me at our 'breakfast' table.

I grunted. Cici seemed to take this as some sort of reply.

"We're getting a new student. Didn't you hear? There was an email sent out. He's from…oh where was it…California! Some sort of genius or something, won a scholarship to Middleton."

Middleton was the private high school we attended, located in a remote valley outside of Trent, our hometown. It was supposed to be one of the best in the nation, but I'd attended better.

"Hooray. Maybe he'll like you," I mused sarcastically. Cici grinned and flipped her hair, taking a surreptitious glance in her mirror.

"Anyway," she continued, unfazed by my black humor, "We should get going. What time is it?" She glanced at the antique grandfather clock standing solemnly in a corner. "7:56. Hm. Whatever, we have, like, two minutes." She shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair for the millionth time. I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

"We should be hunting," I murmured offhandedly after a moment. Cici looked up, her expression blank.

"I'm fine," she replied in a quiet voice. Though I'd establish long ago that Cicilia wasn't angry with me for condemning her to this life, she still liked to avoid addressing our 'little problem' as much as possible. I usually complied, always guilty, but my thirst was getting the better of me.

"No, you're not," I said in a voice like black silk. It was my favorite – I'd tried out a few over the years: icy, perky, even an English accent. None of them had quite the same effect on people as 'black silk'. Even Cici cowered a little when I put it on.

"I said I'm fine," she protested weakly.

"Your eyes look like tar," I accused, knowing full well that this would wound her more than anything else I could say. I didn't miss her hurried glance in the mirror. Cici's face fell as she noticed her eye color.

"But Ana…" she groaned. "It's finally raining! We can't miss school on a day like today, it's just stupid! Please? I'm fine, really, we'll go tomorrow!" She put on her puppy-dog face, glancing sideways at me with a slight frown.

I stared at her for a moment, imagining how my night-black gaze would bore into her soul… "Fine. Let's get going."

Immediately, Cicilia seemed to forget our tense conversation.

"Excellent! Wait, I have to get my bag." There was a whisper of wind as she disappeared, a light patter on the steps, and then she reappeared, carrying a huge pink backpack. I grimaced, hefting my own navy-blue bag, and then we dashed out of the house, as fleet as only vampires could be.

We arrived at school at exactly 7:59, and were sitting in the classroom just as the second bell finished ringing. It wasn't that far a walk to Middleton anyway, and a running vampire could travel from our rented Victorian in Trent to the school in less than three minutes.

"Ah – Cicilia, Anastasia – right on time, as always," greeted our math teacher, Mr. Kole. Cici was convinced that Mr. Kole had a crush on me, but I always laughed this off. He was handsome, to be sure, with short sandy blonde hair and sculpted muscles, but he was twenty-five and I was seventeen going on two hundred and thirty-three.

"Can I see your homework?" he asked, already preparing his delighted smile. I produced a piece of paper covered in a smooth, looping scrawl. He ran his gaze down the line of finished math problems, searching for any discrepancies. Of course not: I'd mastered Calculus when I was only one hundred and fourteen. Mr. Kole found one mistake amid Cici's heart-dotted writing. She pouted as he demonstrated how to correctly solve the problem, while I leaned back in my seat and sighed for the second time that day. Cici had forbid me to help her on any schoolwork, determined to pass high school for the first time on her own.

"Excellent, excellent work girls – keep it up!" Mr. Kole commended us, with a glowing grin in my direction. I made no attempt to return it, and after a moment he turned away, crestfallen, to check the other students' homework.

I leaned forward on the desk, my head in my hands. I could hear Cici shuffling around in her bag next to me. Around us, there was a circle of empty desks. Humans tended to avoid both Cici and I like the plague in close quarters, due to our unnatural aura of predatory malice. However, outside the classroom, there was usually a trail of besotted teenage boys following Cici a few safe steps behind.

"Now, I'd like to start out with some basics this morning…" Mr. Kole was saying as he set up the SmartBoard in front of us. I prepared to fabricate a nice, calm daydream to pass away the hour of hideously boring math, when suddenly I heard footsteps outside the door. Cici heard them too, many moments before the other dull humans in the classroom. I counted 57 seconds before the footsteps paused outside our door; 16 seconds as the person outside turned the doorknob, and 14 seconds as they slowly pushed open the door. All in all, a rather swift entry – for a human.

"Ah," exclaimed Mr. Kole, turning away from a math problem that he was copying onto the board. I turned to see who had come into the room, when a tiny gust of wind brushed past my face. It took me three seconds, exactly, to make one of the most momentous decisions of my life.

I had never smelled human blood more potent than that of the boy who had just walked into our classroom. Nor had I ever seen a face that I was more drawn too on a mortal creature than his. And in those three seconds, I fought an epic battle of willpower that came dangerously close to having a drastic, bloody outcome. It was one word from Cici that saved the boy's life.

"Ryan." It was a smooth, almost musical whisper that wound its way past the frontlines of my war. Right in the line of fire, it was a miracle that it didn't get torn apart in the heat of battle. But it didn't, and it took a millisecond for both sides to notice it and pause.

I made an almost imperceptible flick of my eyes toward Cici. Only she noticed.

"Ryan," she said again, answering my unspoken question. "His name is Ryan Delamere."

That one word saved his life. And so in three seconds, Ryan was almost murdered. _Almost_.

"This is our new student, Ryan Delamere. Ryan, can you introduce yourself?" Mr. Kole asked. I could see him watching me out of the corner of his eye, and the despairing expression on his face when he noticed how focused I was on the new kid's face. Little did he know, I was trying very, very hard to convince myself not to leap out of my seat and snap his neck first, then do in all the students before they had a chance to give me away.

"Anastasia, _no_," Cici murmured. Her voice only took on this amount of force when she was either very, very angry, or on the verge of tears. At the moment, I guessed it was a combination of both. "You _can't_. Please…" Ahh…there was the crying voice.

I had gripped the table so hard that my fingers had made four nice grooves in the wood. Without thinking too much about it, I scraped at the edges of the indents, making it look like some bored student had labored away at the table's edge with a pair of dull scissors.

"Er...hi," Ryan began. He stood awkwardly before the class, conscious of the many pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. It wasn't every day we got a new student from California striding into Calculus. "My name is Ryan Delamere, I just moved to New Hampshire from San Francisco. I, er…I like to write." He glanced desperately at Mr. Kole, who plastered on a fake smile and gestured toward the circle of empty desks.

Cici was the only one who heard me swear violently a few times under my breath. If Ryan sat anywhere near us, I'd be hard pressed to stay calm. I'd stopped breathing the moment I first caught his scent, but if Mr. Kole asked me a question, I'd have to take a breath, and then there was no telling how Ryan's life story would play out – or not at all.

Slowly, as though time itself, even for me, had come to a halt, Ryan took seven steps toward me. Right around step four he glanced up, suddenly conscious of the empty space surrounding Cici and myself. At step five he happened to meet my gaze. His eyes widened, his cheeks went a few shades paler, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped his notebook close to his chest. I was aware of the effect my penetrating black stare had on mortals, but for the time being, I didn't care so much if he was scared out of his mind.

Ryan chose the desk closest to me, rather than sit on the other side of Cici. I wanted to march right over and punch him in the jaw for causing me so much discomfort. Of course, after I punched him in the jaw…my mind began to wander, and with a massive amount of effort I yanked myself back to reality.

Mr. Kole had started again, and luckily he was demonstrating a rather difficult problem, so other people asked a lot of questions and his attention was, for once, not directed at me. I spent the remainder of the class with my eyes staring intently at a minute stain on the corner of my desk, my hands clenched into fists beneath the table, my airways completely closed off. Not a sound escaped me for the duration of the class. Cici watched me out of the corner of her eye as she participated dutifully in the class discussion, but I could see that she was just as tense, prepared to leap up and incapacitate me if I showed even the slightest hint of loosing control. Unfortunately, I knew that if I made the decision to kill Ryan right here and now, she had no chance of stopping me.

It was the longest math class I'd ever sat through in my life. The second I saw the clock hand click towards 9, I was out of my seat, my bag in my hand, and out of the classroom before Mr. Kole had even begun to say we were free to go. I didn't care if he was angry: I needed to get out of the room and far, far away from Ryan Delamere.

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	3. Escape

Hope you liked the first two chapters…I did :D. Every time I start a new story, I fall in love with the main guy…guess that's the point of him, anyway. Not to mention I always model them after my idea of a perfect boy. Ahhahaha…yeah. Moving right along…

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I stepped down lightly on the break and pulled the keys out of the ignition. The purr of the car's engine faded away into black silence as I sat there, as still as a marble statue. The day's events played out like a horror movie in my mind's eye.

It was as if Ryan was my own personal demon, sent to torture me and test my endurance to its limit. There was no way I could return to school without going after Mr. Delamere with tooth and nail. I just knew it was impossible. Yet, how could I let Cici down? For 12 years, we'd supported each other through 'withdrawal', and finally she'd mastered her thirst enough for us to start school again. Now, with one boy, I could ruin Cici's happy ending. I grimaced at how it sounded on the surface – so shallow.

A flash of yellow light alerted me to a second car pulling up next to me. It's engine guttered to a stop, the headlights flaring once, illuminating the lake shore in front of us, and then dying. I swallowed a huge breath, taking in the scents. I couldn't pick up anything from outside my own car.

A rap on the window made me jump. I turned to stare in disbelief at whatever strange human being dared to approach me. For a moment I toyed with the idea of dashing out of the car and slaking my thirst – here, where no one could see, where only I would know. But the pale golden curls and delicate angel's features dissolved my fantasy in a second.

I inserted the key's into the ignition once again and rolled down the window a couple of inches.

"Cicilia?" I queried, surprised and a little perturbed.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern layering her musical voice. I blinked, then lowered the window the rest of the way. She leaned into the car, her elbows propped on the door.

"No, not really," I replied sardonically, resting my head on the back of the seat and glaring at her out of the corner of my eye.

"What happened? Your anxiety spiked…at first I thought he was a vampire or something. Why him, all of a sudden? I though you'd…gotten past that." Cici muttered into her hands, not meeting my pitch-dark gaze.

For a moment it was completely silent, then I shifted and the leather beneath me rustled. "I don't know," I admitted, disgusted at the raw fear in my voice. I swallowed, getting a hold of myself. Cici noticed it too, and flinched. She'd probably never heard to so much emotion in my voice – I could imagine the effect it would have on such an optimistic soul. "I've just never…_met_ anyone like him." I knew that she understood the double meaning of my words. I'd never smelled anything as delicious as that boy either.

"Can you…? I mean, are you going back to school? Soon?" she added desperately.

I was quiet for a very, very long time. I was picturing my future – our future. The decision wasn't really a conscious one, but it came out of my years of struggle and violence, and formed slowly on the tip of my tongue.

"Yes," I whispered. "I'll go back."

I don't know what made me say it, but those three words changed my life for ever.

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	4. Decision

Here's Chapter 4. I've decided that I won't post another chapter until I get more reviews, but tons of thanks to those who _have_ reviewed! Also, to anyone who cares, I'm having trouble deciding what Anastasia's special 'power' should be. I had one idea but it would have made the story way too complicated. As you might have noticed, Cici is an emotional manipulator like Jasper except she can't really control people's emotions, only feels them.

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_Snap!_ A piece of lead went skittering across the paper and fell with barely a sound onto the kitchen floor. Beside it, three other metal chips lay silently on the linoleum.

Furious, I clicked my mechanical pencil madly, shaking until another lead spear emerged from the tip. My forehead creased in a frown, I turned back to my homework, leaning over the table with my shoulder's hunched and dark coils of hair obscuring my concentrated expression.

"Jeez Ana, I know you like chemistry, but give the pencil a rest," Cici muttered from across the table. She was doodling a penguin in the margin of her completed American History homework. I shot a glare in her direction, but she missed it, so absorbed was she in her drawing.

As a matter of fact, chemistry was my least favorite subject, but for the time being I would rather be focused on balancing chemical equations than anything else.

"It's due tomorrow," I said by way of reply. I could see Cici's curls bounce out of the corner of my eye as she raised her head, a questioning expression distorting her cherubic face.

"Are you…going to school tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly, the shadow of a grin creeping across her face.

I didn't meet her gaze as I replied, "I have to turn in my homework, don't I?"

A delighted gasp escaped her lips. "Great! Now I won't have to be all by myself again." Yesterday I'd managed to convince Cici to let me stay at home, despite the pouring rain. I wasn't sure I was ready to face Ryan again just yet. But I'd spent my free day wisely – I'd hiked into the forest surrounding Trent and hunted until I could barely walk because I was so full. Cici had joined me later that evening, and I knew that I wouldn't need to feed for a whole week at least, while able to resist Ryan's potent scent.

For the past three days, since I'd first seen his face, I couldn't get it out of my head. I'd quickly banished the memory of the smell of his blood from my mind, but there was no way I was getting rid of the image. His untidy black hair and wide blue eyes were burned into my mind's eye forever, it seemed.

"There," I said, a hint of triumph in my voice. I'd finished, finally, though the jumble of letters on the page hardly seemed fit to hand back to our obsessive-compulsive chemistry teacher.

There was half an hour left until midnight, which was usually when Cici and I both returned to our rooms to read or study. Since I'd finished my homework, I realized with despair that I had nothing else to grasp my attention. Eight hours stretched ahead of me, seeming longer than any amount of time I'd endured in my very long life span.

Cici looked up again as she sensed panic begin to well in my chest, her expression concerned. Today, her eyes looked liked molten gold, and I imagined my own changed expression. I grimaced. Some weird, malevolent aspect of my personality relished the fear I inspired in humans who met my gaze, and when I was robbed of that deliciously evil influence over people, I felt oddly vulnerable. Some part of me _liked_ being a monster. I shuddered and closed my eyes.

"You…you don't have to go," Cici said quietly, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I let her, knowing how guilty she felt for wanting me to come to school.

I shook my head slowly. "Yes, I do," I replied. I'd made up my mind and there was no turning back – this would be my ultimate challenge, a genuine test of faith. Compared to some of my kind, I'd led a nice life, and I had always known it couldn't last. If Ryan Delamere really were my own personal demon, there was no way he was bringing me down, not after everything I'd been through.

Cicilia left me alone after that. The grandfather clock let out a gentle _gong_ as the hour hand struck 12. Without a word, Cici gathered her papers and darted up the stairs, my chemistry homework fluttering weakly in her wake. Sighing, I collected my own stuff and followed more slowly, flicking off the kitchen light as I went. The stairs creaked under my tired weight, and the door to my room squeaked as I pulled it shut behind me.

My room was my sanctuary, the only place where I could truly relax and be myself. I would have given my life for Cicilia, and I knew she would do the same for me, but I could never truly let go around her, not to mention she could practically tell what I was thinking by monitoring my emotions.

The room wasn't huge, but it was in no way cramped. A dusty fireplace occupied one wall, crowded on both sides by floor to ceiling bookshelves. A wide picture window with an alcove window seat made up the far wall, and on my left was a dark wood desk, piled with papers. Amidst the stacks was a sleek black laptop – a birthday present to myself last year. Beside the desk was another door, slightly ajar, that revealed a generous walk-in closet.

In the center of the room were a couch and a low coffee table, facing a flat screen TV that took up most of the fourth wall. The couch was littered with pillows of all shapes and sizes, not to mention a fair collection of teddy bears. I strode forward and flopped myself down among the pillows, curling into a ball and squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

Almost immediately, a picture of Ryan's face popped into my mind's eye, taunting me. I growled and clenched my hands around a soft satin pillow, trying to drive the image away. If only I could sleep – right now I would have given my right hand to be able to drift into oblivion. Then again, I didn't really have a problem with giving up my right hand – I expect it would only take a few days to crawl back anyway.

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Okay, I know that was a really short chapter, but I don't think I can really continue the story without knowing her 'power'. After all, if she's like Edward and she can read minds, that'll be a big factor in going to school. I was thinking maybe telekinesis, but that's kind of boring. She could have a shield power like Bella, but that wouldn't come in handy unless she was fighting something, which doesn't happen everyday. Maybe she can be invisible? Uh no that's stupid. Please help me! Oh, and I PROMISE that the next chapter will be much, much longer. I'm still sort of figuring the story out so I'm only posting snippets so far.

-Aster


	5. Fire and Ice

Here's chapter 5, finally. I'm still sort of undecided on her 'talent' though. And I need more reviews…:'(. Thanks to Feng Yue for being my only reviewer. My timing got a little bit mixed up, so I'll clarify: today, in Ana's world, is a Tuesday. She met Ryan last Wednesday. Oh, and I hope no one minds me stealing a few lines from Twilight (creds to Stephenie Meyer).

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A gust of warm air encircled me as Cicilia opened the door and ushered me inside. The breeze brought with it the ever-tantalizing scent of human blood, warm and heady. I resisted the temptation with practiced ease, watching, as I always did, to see that Cicilia remained calm. It was silly, I realized now. Neither of us posed any danger to our classmates anymore, but I'd developed the habit and I didn't seem able to shake it off. I grimaced as this train of thought quickly melded into the inevitable follow-up – I did pose a threat now, but only to one student in particular.

"Are you sure?" Cici asked for the tenth time that morning. My only answer was a growl, too low for the humans around us to hear.

The hallway was crowded, despite the early hour. The babble of excited voices that accompanied the burning thirst enveloped the two of us as we walked, conspicuous as always, to our lockers. The humans generally gave both of us a wide berth, driven by their instinctual fear of our animalistic grace and dazzling white teeth. This suited me well, but I always felt a pang of guilt as Cici stared longingly at the throngs of giggling high school girls.

By some happy chance (actually, Cici had pulled quite a few of the right strings) we had lockers next to each other at the very end of the hallway, away from the main crowd. I trudged glumly to the wall and flicked the lock a few times, twisting it expertly right, left, and then right again. Cici's locker swung open with an audible click at the exact same moment, and we both retrieved our books for English in unison.

"We'll be starting Kafka in a few weeks," Cici commented. "Should be fun." Her attempt at nonchalant conversation was entirely wasted on me. I knew exactly what she was really doing. She could feel my heart rate accelerating, my anxiety spiking, and she was trying, in vain, to calm me down with meaningless chatter.

"Cici – I don't care," I hissed. I knew it was mean, but I didn't have time to feel bad – we were standing outside the English classroom.

Cicilia's mouth pulled down a little bit at the corners, but I could see that it wasn't her hurt feelings – she was concerned. I followed her gaze, and all too soon I met the wary blue gaze of my personal demon. My personal demon that haunted my dreams. I looked away quickly, feeling my stomach clench. The scent hadn't reached me yet, but no doubt I had mere seconds until it did.

Together, we strode forward, two vampires among a metaphorical ocean of succulent human beings.

It was like a punch in the gut when I finally did taste the fragrance of his blood in the air. White-hot flames ripped down my throat, stimulating a gush of venom in my mouth. I almost turned around and dashed out of the classroom, but Cici's light touch on my arm kept me still. I wondered vaguely what would have happened to Ryan if I didn't have Cicilia.

It took a Herculean effort to cross the classroom and sit down in the center of our little empty circle. Cici had the good grace to occupy my usual seat, which would have had the same effect as an electric chair on me. Ryan stared at us, obviously in awe, from the desk next to Cici. I felt another stab of regret that being full enough to be able to resist his scent had a flip side – I was no longer able to inflict a deathly black glare on him.

The first five minutes of English were pure, unadulterated torture. I sat rigid and white-faced, breathing very slowly through my mouth, focusing on my thumb. But, after those first few minutes, the pain began to ease up. I was surprised but relieved. The more I exposed myself to the scent, it seemed, the less powerful it was. Cici felt me relax just a fraction, and her eyes brightened.

Our teacher continued to drone on in a monotonous voice, pausing occasionally to write something in ridiculously illegible script on the board. I'd already written tonight's analysis of the current novel we were reading, so there wasn't much to hold my attention. Other than Ryan, of course. As soon as the class had settled down and most people were paying attention to the lecture, I turned my head the tiniest bit toward him. To my surprise and amusement, Ryan was watching me out of the corner of his eye. I flashed a toothy grin at him, laughing inside. Maybe I could make some fun out of my torment.

His reaction was not at all what I expected. Ryan smiled back tentatively, his gaze hopeful. I flinched, put out by his lack of terror. He was supposed to grow pale and turn away, perhaps scootch his desk further from us. For a brief second I wondered if he had a mental hindrance – no normal human that I had ever encountered was unaffected by my hostility. Childishly, I was infuriated by this fact. He had nearly robbed me of my self-control – did he have to rob me of my antagonism?

I hadn't been paying any attention to the class, and when Cici suddenly tapped my shoulder, I jerked my head up, disoriented. That only made me more nauseated – I was never disoriented. My head throbbed painfully.

"Mr. Jones asked you a question, Ana," she murmured, prompting me.

I glanced at the board and discerned the direction of the conversation in a second. They were halfway through the lecture, which I had already memorized.

"Hawthorne secretly admires Hester's independence," I spit out mechanically, hardly hearing the words as they dropped from my tongue. Mr. Jones, a stout, balding man, smiled blankly at me before continuing. I blinked rapidly and turned away.

"What's wrong?" Cici asked anxiously, throwing a curious glance at Ryan over her shoulder. He was glaring down at his desk, his dark hair draped in front of his face. His expression was brooding, and I wished I could know what he was thinking.

"Nothing's _wrong_," I grumbled in reply. Cicilia seemed to sense my despondence and frowned, puzzled. I didn't elaborate – I needed to work it out for myself before I could explain anything to her.

Class was over soon after that. The bell jarred me from my reverie and I stood fluidly, gathering my books. Cici stood next to me, her eyes burning with curiosity. Suddenly, she whipped around, shock flashing across her face. I narrowed my eyes, once again looking to see what had startled her. All I saw was Ryan, lounging by the door, his eyes on the floor.

Before I could ask Cici what was up, he paused in his pacing, nodded to himself, and then set off in a new direction – directly towards me. Cici's eyes flickered to me apprehensively, but it was too late for us to escape now.

Again, I don't know what made me say it. If I had been in control of my senses, I'm sure I would have known better.

"Go," I hissed. At first, Cici didn't seem to hear me. It didn't occur to her that I would want to face him alone. I tried again. "Cici, _go_." This time she did hear me, and her eyes grew round with astonishment.

"Are you…" she began, but I cut her off with a shake of my head.

"I'm fine. Go, please. I want to do this alone." I made it sound like I was marching to my own execution. Cici didn't miss the bleakness of my tone, but she loped away anyway, hesitating at the doorframe before she disappeared into the flow of humans on their way to the next class.

I heard someone clear his throat beside me. Steeling myself, I turned to face Ryan. He was still staring at the floor, his cheeks red. I swallowed, trying to calm the raging thirst in my throat. Of all the _guys_ that could blush, why him? I sighed. This made his eyes flicker. Ugh.

"Er..hi. I'm Ryan, but you probably…know that." His voice had a strange melody to it, something I definitely hadn't been expecting. My head swirled, as much from his strange behavior as his thick scent.

"Yes. You moved here from California." This was a strange feeling – talking to him. Another thing I hadn't been expecting.

Now he finally looked up, his blue eyes searching. "Yeah." He gave a strangled laugh, which quickly petered into a cough. I smothered a laugh of my own. So much for bravery.

"Do you want anything in particular?" I asked, aware of how his heartbeat picked up at the sound of my silky voice. Most of my kind had a hard time remembering the effect they had on humans, but I spent so much time testing this that I knew very well how I was toying with his emotions.

"Not really. I just figure I should get to know more people, being the new kid and all." He was gaining confidence. I frowned. Eager to get the conversation moving so that I wouldn't be late for my next class, I took a few prompting steps towards the door. He followed as though an invisible string tied him to me. This observation made my brow furrow even more.

Ryan seemed to expect something, and when I was not forthcoming, he spoke up himself. "Your Anastasia, right?"

I gritted my teeth. He pronounced it the American way: 'Anne-a-staje-a'. This was one of my most imperative pet peeves, something that I wasted no time in drilling into anyone who cared to befriend me. A part of my subconscious remarked that this group included very few, if any, humans. "It's Anastasia, actually," I muttered, pronouncing it 'Aun-a-staus-ee-a' – the _right_ way, in my opinion. I considered asking him to call me Ana, my preferred nickname, but that made it sound like I was being…chummy. I wasn't - no nickname.

"Oh. Is that, like, the old-fashioned way of saying it?" he inquired further.

"No."

My brisk response shut him up for a few delicious seconds. If he wasn't afraid of me because I was a vampire, which worked for most people, maybe I'd have to find another way to discourage this behavior. Like a dog, he needed to be shown who was boss.

"What's the food like here? I haven't been around for lunch yet – I had meetings every day last week." He stared at me expectantly, his gaze still bright and eager.

We passed through the doorway and into the hall. He didn't seem in a hurry as I led the way toward the history classroom. This question caught me off guard. I wasn't used to having to lie to people about such trivial aspects of my nature.

"It's inedible," I replied sardonically, my mouth twitching as I enjoyed the private joke. Ryan paused, but only for a brief second.

"Do you have American History next period?" I queried, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to ask another question, no doubt just as impossible to answer, knowing my luck.

I watched disdainfully as he pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and scanned it with his azure gaze.

"Yup," he quipped a moment later, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. I gaped in disbelief. Had he always been in that class? I didn't remember from last time. I had the sneaking suspicion that he'd changed for that very reason, but dismissed it quickly. That was absurd.

"So what's your favorite class? Is Mr. Jones always that boring? I heard there's a lot of homework for Chem – maybe I should have opted for Physics instead." He looked genuinely curious, but I didn't miss the subtle step he took that brought him closer to me as we walked. My lip pulled back just the tiniest bit. If he was trying to be friendly, I might have to seriously freak him out. This was the last thing I needed – a demon who _liked_ me. What kind of sick joke were the Fates playing on a poor lost soul?

I considered my answers more carefully this time, trying to discern the best way to tip him off, to teach him a lesson. "My favorite class is Spanish," I began, hoping desperately that he was taking French. I was rewarded by a slight frown creasing his forehead, which must mean he was. "Mr. Jones is a very nice man, and I value his lessons," was my next entirely false reply. This made him gaze down at the floor with a sheepish expression. "There's so much homework for Chemistry that I've stayed up all night to finish it before," I concluded gleefully. This wasn't a lie at all, and it was absolutely worth the flash of horror that passed over his face.

Ryan didn't open his mouth again until we reached the American History classroom. We were the last ones to reach the door before Mrs. Ferguson stalked across the carpet to lock it. This was her cruel way of making an example of tardy students. I felt a flicker of horror of my own as the door clicked shut behind me and Mrs. Ferguson's glare burned into the back of my neck. I'd never been close to late in my entire life – would Ryan take _everything_ from me?

The horror turned to disgust and despair as I surveyed the classroom. This time there were only two available seats. I met Cici's apologetic gaze as the two of us made our way to the desks at the back of the room. I slid into the chair beside my best friend, trying to ignore Ryan as he dropped dejectedly into the neighboring place.

"What did he ask you?" Cici questioned anxiously as soon as the attention of the class had been refocused on Mrs. Ferguson. Today we were analyzing art from the Civil War, a class that I'd taken too many times to be caught off guard again, not to mention I time period that I'd lived through. Yes – I experienced the Civil War, despite residing in Italy at the time. One would be surprised how often we had to intervene during that time. Of course, we rarely had dealings with the armies of _humans_ that were scurrying around the South back then – it was the armies of newborn vampires that occupied the majority of our careful attention.

"Stupid questions," I replied juvenilely, and half expected my tongue to stick out of its own accord.

Cici touched my shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Ana. It must be hard."

Her concern made my throat tight, which made my head spin. I'd experienced more emotions in the past few days then I generally did in an entire year. I was usually a single- or double-attitude person, swinging from malignant cynicism to iniquitous humor. All this confusion, guilt and desolation were going to drive me insane.

Luckily, my years of practice at resisting the scent of human blood, including the different kind of restraint that I'd learned among the Volturi, made it easier to concentrate on not killing Ryan. I could follow a train of thought now without it always ending in a memory of his aroma. Therefore, for the first time, I could step back from the situation and observe it from afar. It was obvious that this boy was somehow impervious to my innate ability to inspire fear in those around me, and it was also obvious that for some reason he wanted to befriend me. After a moment of pondering this I quickly banished the thoughts from my mind, having come to a conclusion that was as disturbing as it was tempting. There was always the chance that we could be friends…I shuddered.

American History passed much more quickly than English, and for this I was grateful, as I was on the verge of turning to Ryan and jabbing out both of his eyes, which had been flickering towards me throughout the class. The aggravation only escalated, however, when he rose to his feet and paused, waiting as Cici and I gathered our things. As if he wanted to walk with us to lunch, which was absurd.

"Hi!" said a bubbly voice.

At first I didn't believe my ears, but my sight didn't fail me as soon as I looked up to see who had made such a familiar noise. It _was_ Cici, but I has to blink to tell myself that what I was seeing was genuine. Cici was leaning on the edge of her desk, books in hand, smiling up at Ryan. He looked as surprised as I did, taken aback by her sudden wave of sociability.

"I'm Cicilia di Russo and – you met Ana. How many classes do you have with us, anyway?" her tone was laughing, cheerful. I gaped at her, feeling betrayed.

Ryan swallowed, his face a little slack with bedazzlement. I frowned at Cici – I'd told her too many times that she shouldn't do that to people. "Er…hi?" His voice broke on the end. He blinked once and ran a hand through his hair, and then looked back at me. My frown immediately deepened. This was bad. If he had the willpower to look away from Cici at all, something was profoundly wrong with this boy.

Cicilia seemed to catch this as well, and her astonished glance was enough to prove that her special 'talent' supplied her with a more in depth explanation of this action. I made a very strongly worded mental note to ask her about everything later.

I marched past Cici wordlessly, escaping the tense confines of the classroom, and breathed a sigh of relief as the ache in my throat was momentarily erased by a lungful of fresh air blowing through an open doorway at the end of the hall. I hurried to my locker and stuffed my books and papers inside, not waiting to see if Cicilia or Ryan had followed me, and then continued on to the cafeteria, carefully keeping my mind blank of any thoughts at all.

I took a ham sandwich and a bottle of water, the two things most of the humans didn't eat for lunch when there were much more appetizing things available, and then slinked through the crowds to the table in the far back corner of the huge, high-ceilinged room. This table was always empty, no matter what, because people knew that only the two Italian girls sat there. It was just a rule.

I slammed my tray down and slid, unconsciously graceful, onto the bench, folding my arms and leaning back against the wall. Lunch was, if anything, an ordeal at the best of times. Today, no doubt, would be worse.

I watched the entryway cautiously, awaiting Cici's appearance. I wasn't as surprised this time when she emerged with Ryan trailing warily at her elbow. Her face was a bright mask, but I could tell from her posture that she was just as tense and cautious as I was. This made me feel better, and I didn't quite know why.

The two of them proceed through the lunch line. I watched Ryan's face, scrutinizing his reactions as Cici chatted aimlessly over her shoulder. Most of the time he looked confused and a little bored. Then all of a sudden, his face broke into a smile and I vaguely heard a deep chuckle escape from between his lips. Cici was laughing too, her angelic curls swinging around her shoulders.

I was entirely unprepared for the new emotion that engulfed me like a raging inferno at the sight and sound of his laughter. I had no name for it, only that I had certainly _never_ experienced it before. I clutched the table with white fingers and my breathing sped up as the flood of anger-that-wasn't-really-anger spread through me. For one tiny, brief second, as I stared at the two of them human and vampire, I wanted to hurt Cici. I wanted to stride over and punch her in the gut for making him laugh. It was this revelation that stopped the flow of rage – stopped it cold. Now I was chilled, gripping my stomach like I was about to be sick. Hurt Cicilia? Why would I ever…? How could I _ever_…? _What the hell was happening to me?_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo00o0o

Hmmm…I just realized how sinister it got at the end there. Oh well, that is sort of the effect I'm striving for. Basically, I had a sudden fascination with the antagonist of a story, and it's sort of coming out in Anastasia. Poor girl. Oh, but guess what? I decided on her power! She's like a combination between Zafrina and Jane. She creates a very powerful illusion of pressing darkness that drives most people insane within a few minutes, out of fear. Veeeerrry creepy…but that's why she part of the Volturi. Oh, and btw, the emotion was jealousy, in case no one understood. And the reason why she experiences all of this so intensely is because, like Edward explained in Twilight, vampires rarely change at all. This is why, when he fell in love with Bella, it was so absolute. Ana hasn't felt jealousy in…well, maybe forever, so it's really intense now.


End file.
